


in the end, it's you

by yomigae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yomigae/pseuds/yomigae
Summary: Doyoung thinks back to the shoot, Taeyong’s red hair flying in the wind, hands reaching for him, the sound of his crystalline laughter. Observes the slant in Taeyong’s shoulders while he folds clothes, bare feet tapping on the carpet, and he’s filled with love in an instant—all he has to do is blink.Reuploaded Aug 2020
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	in the end, it's you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [in the end, it's you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25588591) by [fandom J and Kpop 2020 (J_and_K_pop)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_and_K_pop/pseuds/fandom%20J%20and%20Kpop%202020), [Neachka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neachka/pseuds/Neachka)



> Originally uploaded Feb 2020  
> Reuploaded Aug 2020
> 
> Original A/N:
> 
> "I find the many forms of communication available in the kpop industry fascinating, and I think it parallels my fascination with the forms of storytelling that are available, so I wanted to explore that. The result is this jumbled concoction. Also it goes without saying that I love dotae friendship. It's very relatable to me, because I love my best friend in quite the same way.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!"

1.

Five times Doyoung almost said it:

  1. When Taeyong fell asleep on his shoulder in the taxi, on the way back from the concert after party in New York.
  2. When he got Taeyong’s new year post card from Argentina and almost burst into tears.
  3. The time Taeyong came straight to the hospital after their schedule to see him—and he almost said it, delirious in his fever, except Youngho was also there.
  4. That one time, at a cafe, just sitting there.
  5. Every time Taeyong comes home in the dead of night carrying the smell of planes and slips into his blanket.



* * *

2.

The theme for this magazine photoshoot is winter wonderland. Russia supplies the winter, and it supplies the land; wonder is a quality for the two of them to possess. Taeyong finds it, fortunately, in the love for the snowflakes in their hair, finds it in a spark, a childish impulse, a twinkle on his iris. It’s stumbling through the barren fields howling, launching snowballs at each other while the cameras run madly after them. No one tells them what to do—“just have fun!”—but Taeyong always intuitively and effortlessly knows how to please the camera anyway.

Boots planted in the snow, he and Doyoung stand side by side, on the other side of the line of tripods now, their hands—done handling snow, ready to gain some blood—stuffed into their coat pockets. It’s awfully cold.

An intern scuffles over, carrying a paper tray with two coffees.

“These are for you,” she tells them.

Taeyong takes the proffered cup.

“You must be freezing.”

The intern looks up. “Me?”

Taeyong looks down at her reddened, bony fingers.

“Your hands, they look painful.”

“Ah—” She smiles bashfully. “They’re okay.”

She takes the other cup and holds it out to Doyoung, who has been observing. He shakes his head.

“Keep my coffee,” he tells her. “Hold onto it and warm up.”

Her brows rise. “No, no, it’s okay. Please.”

“No, by all means, have it.”

“But—”

“It’s okay. I don’t drink coffee.”

“I—”

Doyoung blinks at her, but she’s frozen, no idea what to do in the case of being rejected. Instead of relief, he finds confusion and panic on her face. There’s a look in her eyes, like she’s pleading him to free her from this assignment, this unexpected burden.

She must have other work to do, and he doesn’t want to waste her time.

“I’ll trade you,” he says at last. “I take this, and you take this.”

Doyoung takes both hands out of his pocket. One reaches for the cup, and the other holds out a hot pack on its palm, offering it to her.

The intern looks up, eyes wide. Doyoung is grinning down at her, ready to insist at the sign of any protest.

There is none.

She makes off with Doyoung’s hot pack, and leaves him all of her gratitude in the form of a drink he will never touch, its warmth already dispersing in wispy clouds in this negative 20 degrees weather.

“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Doyoung hears from beside him.

Doyoung watches his friend gulp down the hot liquid. He turns back to the direction where nothingness stretches forever. The intern is already gone, the shade of her tan coat disappeared back into the mist, taking his life source with her. He laughs at himself.

“Not sure that was worth it,” he admits. “My hand is already hurting.”

Taeyong turns to him, smiling now.

“Idiot.”

Taeyong grabs Doyoung’s hand, subsequently shoves their twined fingers into the warmth of his own coat pocket.

* * *

3.

The amber curtains drawn over the large panes of floor-to-ceiling windows cast the illusion of sundown upon their hotel room. The air smells stale, with a hint of the potpourri on the glass table beneath the ornate mirror on the wall. For an intangible amount of time now Doyoung has been lying on his side on his arm, thinking for a while, still as a statue. The heater blows the back of his hair, the only sign that he is in motion, alive, along with the blink of his feeble eyelids. He can feel sleep overtaking him, but Doyoung wants to look at him a little longer. He hasn't stopped looking at him. Taeyong doesn't seem to care or mind.  
  
What would he care?

Dancing around the room in his boxers, shaking his ass to the music from Doyoung’s speakers while he folds his clothes.

He’s just being a clown. One man circus. Wilding like Doyoung’s not even there.

Doyoung lies there, taking the sight of him in.

He has something to say. The thought already tossed around his mind and mouth like a piece of chewing gum that’s lost all flavor.

“Do you ever think about the day when we have girlfriends?”

Taeyong turns to him, shaking out a pair of pants.

“You brood for twenty minutes just to come up with _this_?”

“It’s a serious question.”

“Well, no, I don’t. That’s no time soon.”

“You’ve been saying that for four years.”

“I’ll say it for four more. It’s too soon.”

“Why? It could be now, if you wanted.”

Taeyong bends down to fold. Down the vertical axis, then twice horizontally. He thinks about the fact that he’s 27, but only for a brief moment. He puts the squarish bundle on the top of the pile. Peeks at Doyoung over his shoulder with a clenching feeling in his chest.

“Why do we have to? Ever?”

Somehow, that’s all it takes for Doyoung to shut up.

“You…you don’t want to then?”

“Not particularly,” Taeyong says, turning back to his clothes.

Doyoung wets his lip. Bites on the inside of his cheek.

There’s a mismatch in their understandings. Not his fault. Just that it’s something they talk about so little, so irrelevant to their daily concerns—he just happened to wonder about it now. Doyoung’s never bothered to ask, just assumed that Taeyong also thought of it as an eventuality. They all reach here, don’t they? Youngho has been going on about wanting a wife and kids for half a decade. Doyoung didn’t know at all that Taeyong never factored this into his future plans.

“All these rites of passage…” Doyoung catches Taeyong mumble.

“Not always. It could be something you want, too.”

Taeyong shakes his head.

“What about starting a family? You love family. I thought you would want that.”

But Taeyong doesn’t have to explain family. He refers to them as family enough. Family is all that he allows into the perimeters of his heart, all that he fills his life with. His blood family—already here, why would he need another one? His work family. His friends family. His plants, his dog, his music. Doyoung thinks back to when Taeyong told him, “I’m not lacking anything in my life.” Deep down, he didn’t believe him, thought he could bet on Taeyong changing his mind. People get older, people have different needs, right?

Unless, he thinks, Taeyong truly envisions himself watching all the people around him get married and have kids, going through the regular motions and rhythms of life, while he himself fades quietly into the background, happy to be encapsulated in his own pace forever. Into the fog. Into the static. Against natural selection, a stray in a foreign land. A single digit in a sea of binaries. A solitary pod, floating in space where no one can hear you cry.

Doyoung imagines himself there too, in that picture.

Beside Taeyong, fading into the background together.

“I’m a…little weird,” Taeyong concludes, not about to defend himself anymore. Abruptly, he turns around. “Is it childish to wish for things to continue as they are forever?”

Maybe it is. But Doyoung would never tell him, because he loves the child in Taeyong, would protect him with his life. He couldn’t find the child in himself anymore. Tugged by the forces of adulthood in a process almost violent, he finds the connection between his past and present jostled, abating, until he’s all but let go of his smaller hand. Doyoung studies this child who seems content on his own, with no inclination to come along with the times. _I remain here_ , he seems to say, past a stubborn pout. _Adults do adult things. Adults deal with expectations. Adults do things they don’t want to. Adults find ways to make themselves not lonely._

Doyoung imagines, now, for himself, having a girlfriend. A familiar vision. That girl he dreams about, the one who would understand him, always sitting by the window while the wind blows in. She haunts his imagination like a sticky poltergeist. Always promising to give him so much more than he asks for. Does he even want these things? He’s not sure. But it’s a sweet vision nevertheless, one he wouldn’t mind if it came true, one that he thinks can certainly make him happy.

But there are many ways to be happy, and there is nothing dissatisfying about the way things are at the moment.

He thinks back to the shoot, Taeyong’s red hair flying in the wind, hands reaching for him, the sound of his crystalline laughter. Observes the slant in Taeyong’s shoulders while he folds clothes, bare feet tapping on the carpet, and he’s filled with love in an instant—all he has to do is blink.

He thinks back on Taeyong’s words. _I’m not lacking anything in my life._

_Good_ , he had said. _Me neither_.

Doyoung rolls onto his back.

“You’re happy now?”

Without turning, Taeyong answers.

“I am happy.”

Doyoung is silent.

Taeyong moves a pile into his suitcase. “What needs to change? You know?”

“I know,” Doyoung says into the still air, smiling now. The muscle movement triggers the blood to flow in him again, erasing the foreign vision and emotion that had overtaken him when he landed upon this question.

“I feel the same,” Doyoung finally tells him.

They’ve been in Europe for too long. Taeyong is homesick. In three days time they fly home, but the plants won’t be there, but that’s alright. They can restore their life bit by bit, however irregular their rhythm. Itinerant souls, tethered down by nothing. Working men on a business trip. Always coming and going, almost as if the only constant in their lives are each other.

Their suits for tomorrow lie side by side like newlyweds on Taeyong’s bed, looking as if they had fallen on their backs holding hands.

Meanwhile, Taeyong is still shaking his ass to the beat, and now, done with folding, he’s doing something weird with his arms.

_I want to kick him_ , Doyoung thinks fondly. The sinister thought fills his eyes with mirth and something more.  
  
 _I want to be closer to you than anyone else_ , Doyoung thinks.

_I can_ , he thinks.

_For you, I want to go till the very end._   
  


* * *

4.

Things Taeyong has considered in search of a suitable hobby:

  
Aggressively cooking meals for other people - unsustainable, misplaced self esteem  
Gaming - numbing, sometimes counterproductive  
Cleaning - compulsive, imposing, burdensome  
Writing music - fulfilling, productive, exhausting  
Raising plants - satisfying but unimmersive  
Doodling and customizing his clothes - too mood-dependent  
Shopping - short term gratification  
Skin care, meditation, self love - hard, but worth it  
Spending time with Doyoung - easy as breathing

* * *

5.

“Doyoung hyung, I have to show you something.”

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“Mark showed me this video…”

“Hyung, what is this?”

“I closed the tab and this…”

“What is ‘how to tell if you’re in love with your best friend’?”

* * *

6.

** DOYOUNG **

“Is it on? Okay. Hi everyone. Right now we are backstage at Music Bank. We’re finishing up getting ready for our stage very soon. It’s been a long time since—”

** TAEYONG **

“—Hell—”

** DOYOUNG **

“—we‘ve been on any music shows in Korea, so it’s—”

** TAEYONG **

“—llo—”

** DOYOUNG **

“—really familiar and comforting to—”

** TAEYONG **

“—please—”

** DOYOUNG **

“—be back here promoting—”

** TAEYONG **

“—pay—”

** DOYOUNG **

“—stop it, hyung.”

** TAEYONG **

“—a—”

** DOYOUNG **

“Stop.”

** TAEYONG **

“—ttention—”

** DOYOUNG **

“As you can see Taeyong hyung is—”

** TAEYONG **

“—to—”

** DOYOUNG **

“—more than a little bit crazy today—”

** TAEYONG **

“—me!”

** DOYOUNG **

“—listen, if you do that one more time.”

TAEYONG stops dipping his head into the camera’s frame.

** TAEYONG **

“Yeah? What will you do to me, Doyoungie~?”

** DOYOUNG **

“I’m going to get a headache, that’s what.”

** TAEYONG **

“And?”

** DOYOUNG **

“I’m not a happy camper when I have a headache, so just—”

** TAEYONG **

“AaaHH! Don’t pull my shirt don’t pull my shirt.”

TAEYONG is forced to sit down beside DOYOUNG.

** DOYOUNG **

“Like I was saying, Taeyong hyung is hyperactive right now—”

** TAEYONG **

“I’m excited for the stage! I’m excited to be back!”

** DOYOUNG **

“—but it’s okay because I’ll make sure he never moves again.”

TAEYONG stops moving and pretends to be frozen.

** DOYOUNG **

“That’s right.”

DOYOUNG turns TAEYONG’s head towards him by the chin. He pokes his cheek, tugs his ear, pinches his nose. TAEYONG doesn’t move.

** DOYOUNG **

“See. I’ve exercised my powers, everyone. Taeyong hyung will stay still for—”

TAEYONG abruptly leans forward and pecks DOYOUNG on the cheek.

** DOYOUNG **

“—!”

** DOYOUNG **

“Why?!”

** TAEYONG **

“Bbobbo robo.”

** DOYOUNG **

“What?”

** TAEYONG **

“I’m a bbobbo robo.”

** DOYOUNG **

“Ok I’ve had enough. I’m going to go find our other memb—”

** TAEYONG **

“Wait wait—”

** DOYOUNG **

“They’re going to have to edit everything out thanks to you!”

** TAEYONG **

“I didn’t think it would actually land—!”

** DOYOUNG **

“Now I have to say everything all over again from the top!”

** TAEYONG **

“I mean…”

** DOYOUNG **

“Can you behave this time?”

** TAEYONG **

“Sorry, sorry.”

** DOYOUNG **

“Unbelievable.”

** DOYOUNG **

“27 year old man.”

* * *

7.

The rock paper scissors tradition feels like a vestige of a bygone ritual—like praying for rain when they know they can just make it rain, or stop, or hurricane, or whatever they wished. Hands are thrown perfunctorily. Roommates are, supposedly, made at the match of a sign. Not that it means much, when they’ve all come to find the few people they’re most comfortable traveling with and have no problem freely switching between these identical hotel rooms. “Hey,” Doyoung nudges Jaehyun. “Wanna switch?” Perfectly understood. In fact, Jaehyun hadn’t even realized he and Taeyong threw the same hand.

He thinks it’s surreal to be lying here in the dark, candle lit on the bedside table, staring at Taeyong’s closed eyelids with barely a foot and a half of space between them. It’s not the first time by any means. Ninety percent of the time he’s entirely immersed in whatever is happening in this space. Ten percent, like now, he dissociates a little, thinking about Taeyong’s forefinger curled around his pinky, trying to observe himself in third person and make sense of this relationship at the same time.

Under their blanket, his hand starts to sweat.

There’s a thought on his mind. Tossed and turned. A salad thoroughly integrated with the murky dressing that Doyoung identifies as his emotions, something he can’t separate from the idea as much as he tries.

A thought that, unlike stale gum this time, accumulates each time it’s revisited. It makes Doyoung feel like a cat, coughing up a month-long hairball.

“Hey,” he calls out quietly.

Taeyong opens his eyes at the beckoning. He hadn’t been sleeping, only resting. He blinks his big eyes at Doyoung, waiting.

Instinctively, Doyoung curls his pinky.

“How much closer can we get before it becomes something more than friendship?”

Sound escapes him. He realizes belatedly that he had whispered, all breath, because any substantial sound would have surely tremored with the frisson he is feeling. Disembodied, he watches Taeyong’s eyes widen as comprehension sinks in.

* * *

8.

Taeyong thinks about it for a long time. Many thoughts grace his mind.

There are a million ways to answer the million implications in that statement.

Doyoung’s starting to think he’s asleep, the way he’s closed his eyes on the world because the roller coaster ride going on inside is too crazy.

Suddenly, Taeyong feels like he found the right words.

“Why do you think there’s a maximum capacity to friendship? Like…some point where it’s not enough anymore?”

Doyoung ponders it.

“It’s not that the friendship ends here. No. Whatever is happening here is all within the Venn diagram of ‘friendship’. But we…” Doyoung hooks his finger again, and Taeyong tugs back. Their eyes meet. “We are crossing into a circle within this bigger circle of friendship that we’ve never crossed before.”

“So what do you mean, ‘more than friendship’, if that circle is inside ‘friendship’?”

“The—well. Whatever you want to call it, we are so close to crossing that line.”

He draws a line on the white sheet between them with his finger.

Taeyong traces the movement with his eyes.

“Who’s drawing that line, Doyoungie?” he says quietly after a moment.

_It’s common sense_ , Doyoung thinks.

The common world. The world of rules, the world of normal. Sometimes, Doyoung finds himself obeying the system—like now. He’s fought to be true to himself in many ways, but in others he remains a dutiful worker ant, a robot who devotedly takes orders, because that is life. He merely wants to live his happiest within a society he can’t control, relent when need be, not drawing attention to himself. All the while, he’s entirely aware of another, freer way of existing. Why does he grasp this reality so tightly? Whether it’s fear or courage, he doesn’t know. Just knows that Taeyong is saying he is oblivious to these expectations, doesn’t care for them. Doyoung wishes he could be that type of person. He wants to be in Taeyong’s world where boundaries are entirely defined by himself. To not see these things that feel like they are clearly in front of his eyes.

“Do you…” Taeyong starts tentatively. “…want to cross that line? With…me?”

Doyoung has to look away when he answers.

“Not exactly. More than _want_ …it makes me…”

“Anxious?”

“No…”

“Afraid?”

“A little bit.”

Doyoung pulls Taeyong’s hand out of the covers. He takes both of his hands, curled into loose fists, holding onto them. He leans his forehead into them, like he’s borrowing them for a prayer.

“I’m afraid of wanting it,” Doyoung breathes.

“I don’t right now, but I’m afraid I will one day. I’m afraid I won’t know what to do when all of this stops being enough.”

“ _If_ it stops being enough, you mean. You can’t know.”

“You’re right.”

Taeyong’s cupped hands are warm in Doyoung’s hold. It feels so good to be connected. It always, always feels so good to hold Doyoung’s hand.

“This line that you speak of…this is not a source of my worries. It makes sense to me that friends get closer over time. To me, there is no end to this process.”

“You feel safe here,” Doyoung conjectures. “Are you at all… _afraid_ of the possibility of something else?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong tells him, after thinking for a long while. “I don’t know if I am or not. I’ve never seriously thought about it.”

_Fair enough_ , Doyoung thinks.

“ _Should_ I…think about it?” Taeyong asks in a small voice.

Doyoung watches Taeyong. Really observes him.

Tousled haired. Slack mouthed. Half lidded eyes. Skin shiny from moisturizer.

His best friend—and it’s only been 8 years, out of 10.

At the thought, he’s instantly filled with love. And it shocks him that it’s that easy. That maybe there was nothing to fear about it all along.

Doyoung lifts a hand to brush the bangs out of Taeyong’s eyes.

“No,” he decides. “Forget about it.”

* * *

9.

After an inconclusive Naver search and accidentally outing himself to Donghyuck—which is already more people than he wanted to ever know about this—Doyoung decides that he would ask for help from one person, and one person only.

“I see.”

“Yeah?”

“You know, this doesn’t surprise me at all. I mean, just look at the two of you.”

Doyoung thinks about what to say, but in the end he can only utter “right.”

Youngho is entirely right. Why is he even shocked, himself?

“You want to get closer with him?”

“I don’t need closer. I don’t need more. It just feels like I could be content forever like this. And maybe that’s the problem.”

Youngho puts down his weight, huffing as he drops the heavy bar.

“If you’re happy, why do you tell yourself you shouldn’t be?”

_It’s not normal_ , Doyoung thinks, again and again. As if by repeating it enough he can make it matter like he loves to believe it does.

He can hear Taeyong’s reply in his ears, ringing like the sound of church bells: _And?_

_Maybe I’m not normal._

_And that's okay._

Youngho is peeking at him while chugging down his bottle of water.

He pats Doyoung on the arm, a kinda ‘wake up, pal’.

“Whatever the relationship, people come, people go. Just enjoy it while it lasts.”

Easier said than done. Of course, Youngho knows that, too. It’s inevitable to get attached.

“Don’t some people feel irreplaceable, though?”

Youngho dabs at his sweat. White towel across his face, around his neck, patting his forehead. The time he takes to answer makes Doyoung feel dumb for his question.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t and don’t learn to live without them.”

In the elevator, before Youngho bids him goodnight on his floor, he says,

“I don’t know if I can help you, but you and Taeyong should come to the movies with me and Ten on Saturday.”  
  
So Doyoung signs them up to go to the movies—Taeyong misses Ten. There are maybe 5 other people there at the 2 AM showing, but they aren’t gonna risk it. Taeyong is functioning in his tired mode, nothing to do with the time, just the day’s worth of work and his own state of mind. Ten chose the film, which means: romance. Not his usual cup of tea, but Doyoung is hyped, heard good reviews from his brother and his friends. They join Ten and Youngho in the theatre after buying some churros. In the dark, nibbling at his stick like a rabbit working a carrot, Doyoung peeks over clandestinely at Taeyong beside him, studies his unblinking, watery eyes.

Taeyong’s not eating, staring straight ahead as if in a trance.

He zones out the entire movie. Vaguely even remembers the title, couldn’t tell you the genre. Half way through, he’s shrunken into his seat, head falling forward until his chin almost touches his chest. In the interstices between waking and dreaming, all kinds of illusory thoughts trespass the field of his mind. Like stepping over a well-groomed lawn, squashing all the wildflowers beneath their footsteps.

The people on the screen are laughing.

Doyoung looks over at Taeyong’s swaying form.

Without really thinking, he reaches over for Taeyong’s hand.

He had thought Taeyong had fallen asleep—is shocked to feel the hand in his curl around his own.

“Hyung?” Doyoung whispers.

Taeyong looks up slowly.

“Lean on me and sleep if you want,” he pats his shoulder.

Without thinking about it, Taeyong leans into him.

* * *

10.

_“Hey…did you know?”_

_“What is it?”_

_“When you left. I was so close to giving up everything to go with you. You know? Nothing in the world felt like it was worth losing you over. Seven billion people, and you were the one person who truly knew me on this lonely, lonely planet._

_“For so long I planned my entire life around you, and I know it was stupid, I was twenty two, what was I supposed to know? I thought—we already spent a third of our lives together. I thought it would last forever. I took it for granted. I was so preoccupied with enjoying what we had that I’d never thought about it coming to an end. I would’ve given everything for you to stay. I could have trusted you with my entire life. I almost did, but I’m so glad I didn’t.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Don’t be. I know it wasn’t easy. No hard feelings anymore, right? You have your life now, I have mine. I’ve got—I have my career, which I love, I have my new friends, I finally have the pet dog I’ve always wanted. I’m on my own, I feel fulfilled—”_

_“Come back to me, Jess.”_

_“What?”_

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me five years. I’m sorry it took going around the world three times to realize. But I know now.”_

_“Noah?”_

_“In the end, it’s you.”_

_“You can say no. I’ll be fine, too. There is nothing more I need to be happy. But I was just watching you, and I suddenly had the thought that I don’t want to live a life without you in it, that’s all.”_

Hand in Doyoung’s hand, head on Doyoung’s shoulder, for the first time Taeyong starts to cry.

* * *

11.

“ _Hyung_?”

Doyoung almost bursts out the door. When he does, glancing frantically every which way, he finds the hallway empty save for the lone employee in the ticketing chair playing on her phone.

He didn’t know what was happening. It took him by surprise, too. If he had known—but Taeyong was crying in silence—he would have followed him out the theatre immediately.

“ _Taeyong_?”

Doyoung’s about to ask the employee when he catches sight of Taeyong stepping out of the bathroom.

He strides frantically to his side. “Hey, is everything okay?”

Taeyong leans back against the grape colored wall. He’s rubbing his face—and Doyoung notices it’s glistening, like he’d just splashed it under water. Beneath the hypnotic, fluorescent light of the theatre, Taeyong’s eyes are alive, sparks quivering, as if moonlight dancing on a midnight pool. The familiar peachy tone of his skin is blue and ghastly, pale like marble, like an alien.

Taeyong tries to hold Doyoung’s gaze, but it’s entirely overwhelming. Against his will, his brows knit. Tears are leaking out of his eyes again.

“I don’t know what to feel,” he blurts.

Doyoung opens his mouth. Closes it again. “About…?”

“Being more than friends.”

Recognition hits. Doyoung feels himself reeling back to that conversation. The feeling of speaking those words, like weary tires rolling torpidly over a speed bump, just to free himself—from what? This persistent thought, a stone in his chest, the weight of which now Taeyong has to share. His bated breath, his finger hooked around Taeyong’s own. The negative space between them, all of a sudden symbolic.

“I told you it’s fine to not think about it.” _I shouldn’t have said it_ , Doyoung thinks. Wants to crouch down, or sink into the ground.

Taeyong shakes his head. “Of course I was going to think about it.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Taeyong wipes his eyes. He speaks with no power, staring at the butterfly laces of his sneakers.

“The idea…Doyoungie. It’s so overwhelming for me. The moment I slap a label on our relationship, I feel trapped by everything that it defines.” He looks up, speaking in a whisper, “we have something so special. Is it necessary to give it a name?”

Doyoung shakes his head madly.“No. Never. We don’t ever have to. I’m sorry.”

Doyoung is struck with the urge—the knowledge that there is the urgent need right now—to hug Taeyong. He looks around. Pulls Taeyong back inside the empty bathroom, where he collects him into his arms. Taeyong holds on tight, buries his face into his shoulder.

“I can’t think about it. Me and Doyoungie. ‘Lovers’. What does it mean? Do we not already love one another? I know what it really means is ‘boyfriends’, it means ‘gay’, it means ‘socially unaccepted’, it—when I think about these things I can’t—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Taeyong lifts his face. “Maybe I am afraid,” he announces quietly.

“You don’t have to know right now,” Doyoung assures him. “If it’s burdening you, you don’t have to think about it anymore.”

He wraps his arms impossibly tight around his best friend, and is hit with a desperation to hold on. It comes to him in the form of a plea: _please let us continue just like this. Nothing has to change. Everything we have is already more than enough. Even if it can never last forever, I’ll treasure every moment we have together, and when the time comes for us to part, god will I miss him, but I will be okay. We both will be._

He buries his face into Taeyong’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

12.

New Year’s resolutions Doyoung has made since debut:

**2017** : Do my job well, perform and sing to the best of my abilities, learn as much as I can from those who are more experienced.

**2018** : Work hard to make up for the things I still lack in, open up more and be more expressive on camera.

**2019** : Stay true to myself and show the fans a genuine version of myself. Love myself, have confidence and pride in myself and how far I’ve come.

**2020** : Make it big. All in. Don’t be afraid. Let go.

**2021** : Stay humble. Do not forget my original dreams and passions and what I set out to do. Stay true to myself. Use my fame and power for good and make an impact on the people around me and the world.

**2022** : Show gratitude to those whom I cherish, and compassion to those whose lives can benefit from my help and my power. Never stop working hard. Don’t be afraid to fall—there is life, meaning, happiness waiting for me beyond this all.

**2023** : Continue blissfully like this for as long as I can, taking no moment for granted.

* * *

  
  
13.

Five times Taeyong understood:

  1. Bounced around the van on the way home, thinking back on the first moment their eyes met during their duet stage earlier in the concert.
  2. Two years ago, when Doyoung stayed on the phone with him for four hours when SuperM stopped their LA concert half way due to a bomb threat.
  3. Seven years ago, when Doyoung reached for his hand while they sat in the audience waiting anxiously for the MAMA awards announcement.
  4. When Doyoung crawled out of bed at 11 PM and came downstairs to make Taeyong dinner because his flight back had exhausted him to the bone.
  5. Last week, when Doyoung reached for him under their blanket for the first time.



* * *

14.

“…and so when I tried the shirt on, it was smaller than I thought—oh, amazing. Taeyongie is calling me right now. I’m going to pick up. Hello?”

“Hewwo.”

“This again?”

“Hewwo.”

“I’m on vlive right now. You’re disturbing my broadcast.”

“I know. I’m watching you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying! When have I ever lied? You’re twenty three minutes in.”

“You really are obsessed with me.”

“Should I stop?”

“You—why did you call?”

“I had something to say.”

“Which is?”

“Hello seasonies! Long time no see! It’s 8 PM right now in Dubai. I’m a little drunk and I just wanted to say I love you! I love Doyoungie!”

“T-thanks. Is that…is that all?”

“That’s all. I’ll hang up now.”

“Eung. Call me later.”

“Eung. Bye bye.”

“…I didn’t know Taeyongie hyung was watching. I guess I should bad-mouth him a little less. Or maybe I should do it more. Anyway. I was telling you the story about…what was I talking about? I was…something about…damn it. Nevermind. I completely lost my train of thought. But speaking of Taeyong—I’ll tell you a funny episode. Last time Taeyong hyung and I went to eat lobsters, and…”

* * *

15.

“You know I would wait for you.”

“Wait for me?”

“ Yeah. Wherever you are. You can go to Paris. You can fly to Vienna, to Berlin, to Istanbul. And I’m going to be here every time with my arms open, waiting for whoever you become to come home. Can you imagine that?”

“ I—what the hell. Don’t say things like this to me suddenly.”

“Why?”

“I’ll…”

[laugh]

“I can see it, you know. You in your wacky outfits, or in a worn t-shirt, or a polo shirt, maybe a floral print from Maui, and a tan. You’re on the phone, you’ve got sunglasses clipped to your collar, a suitcase behind you plastered with stickers all over, full of useless things you splurged on and ridiculous looking souvenirs. You’re in sandals while everyone else in Korea is wearing double layers. I don’t have to look hard to find you, you would stand out, like a glow stick. I’ll be there, you know. I’ll be waiting for that person. I’ll be there to give him a hug. And if he comes back with someone else then I’ll be there to shake their hand, too.”

“Stupid—stop.”

“Why?”

“I got it.”

[laugh]

“I got it. You don’t have to say anymore.”  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yomigaette)


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